


Sciccherie - The Finer Things

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Series: Spadeliano: A Journey [11]
Category: Spadeliano, Suburra - La Serie | Suburra: Blood on Rome (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Caring, Ending Fix, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fix-It, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Grinding, Kissing, Longing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Moving, Moving In Together, Mutual Masturbation, Neck Kissing, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oral Sex, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Romantic Gestures, Saving a Life, Season 3 Finale, Season 3 fix-it, Season 3 spoiler, Selfless Gestures, Smut, Surprises, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: "Every word that spilled from Aureliano’s delicious lips was like breathing air into Spadino’s lungs, underlined by a mingle of gratitude, adoration, and passion."Gold means nothing when you've got the love of the only man you've ever wanted.
Relationships: Aureliano Adami & Alberto "Spadino" Anacleti, Aureliano Adami/Alberto "Spadino" Anacleti
Series: Spadeliano: A Journey [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642261
Comments: 19
Kudos: 110





	Sciccherie - The Finer Things

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Napoli-Roma andata e ritorno](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18596005) by [RavenAurelieChoiseau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau). 



> I'm still not over the ending, so here's my humble little fix-it. They deserved better.  
> Huge spoilers for Season 3!

_"Se vogliamo noi possiamo non cadere If we want, we don't have to fall  
E se mi parli con quel tono anche 'sta sera, beh If you talk to me with that tone again tonight...well  
Trovo in disco qualche bimbo come micche micke I'll find some boy in a club like Micche Micke  
Che ha voglia di baciarmi il collo mentre parlo di come sei te" Who'll want to kiss my neck while I tell him all about what you're like _

**A few weeks before the shootout…**

Rome: A few weeks before the shooting  
  
He tastes like lime and salt, Spadino notes. From behind a sting of tears and a lump in his throat he tries to enjoy it, he really does. It’s their second date and still… nothing.  
Alberto nudges the tip of his muscle deeper into the guy’s mouth every time he steps into him. Marco… he’s returning the kiss with reckless abandon, hands like claws fisting into Spadino’s back and neck. His tongue meets the smooth wetness of Spadino’s teeth and the brand of his hard cock is like soldering heat against his thigh when Alberto’s shoved up against the wall.  
Meanwhile, he feels nothing. Well, that’s not true… he feels _guilty_ and so fucking sad it’s ripping him in two. The world has somehow slowed down since Lele died, and the ache in his chest for this unrequited love is making it difficult to exhale.  
There’s no hard on to speak of, either, just in case the guy was checking for it by grinding into him so violently. He notices without amusement that this substitute is no substitute at all. If anything, he feels his sex going limper. (Even through the blurred tunnel vision and the aid of the semi-darkness in this lobby, it’s all wrong). Spadino feels like he’s drowning, submerged already to the nose and the water keeps rising. Every minute not being Aureliano’s makes it harder and harder to draw a decent breath. Sometimes being near him is unbearable, but then he knows better. He knows he’d rather have him like this than not at all.  
  
Warm air that hints of mint hits his neck, pulling him from this pathetic reverie, as the guy whispers it into his ear: “Voi scopà? Salimo?” _Wanna fuck? Let’s go upstairs?_  
A finger trails down his shirt, curacao eyes lighting up with a sudden ray of hope at the prospect.  
Why bother, Spadino thinks instead. You’re not him. You’ll never be him. I was a fool to think this would work. He cups a hand to Marco’s bearded cheek and wags his head. “Sei carino. Però…” _You're cute and all, but..._  
“Però che cosa?” _But what?_ It ends up sounding more defensive than his date had originally intended.  
“Te farei solo ‘n torto.” _I'd only hurt you. Do you wrong._ He looks up at him and sees the recognition flash in Marco’s sea eyes as they crinkle at their edges. It’s funny how much he looks like him, and how much he doesn’t at all.   
“Ho capito.” _I get it._ Marco lets go of the shirt and stiffens as he pulls away from Spadino’s caress. “C’hai n’antro.” _There's someone else._  
If that’s not an understatement, Spadino thinks. Not someone. THE one.  
  
Somewhere between the sound of his heartbreak and Spadino’s interest waning, Alberto gives the only explanation he can: the truth. “Sì e no. E’ complicato. Marco me dispiace. Mo vado, che è mejo. Davvero, me dispiace.”  
_Yes and no. It's complicated. I'm sorry Marco. I better go now. I'm sorry, for real.  
__  
_ The Aureliano who isn’t Aureliano deflates. Marco’s expression turns from quiet expectation to one of utter disappointment. He’s still standing there with his mouth gaping open as Spadino saunters away, smearing the back of his hand over his lower lip to remove any last trace of him.  
Once he’s outside, Spadino flips open the burner and dials the only number memorized.   
His beautiful face rearranges itself into a wide grin, something dazzling in the inky blackness of his eyes when he hears the familiar voice on the other end. The only voice he’d ever want to hear for the rest of time.  
“Eh Spadì, ‘ndo stai?” _Hey Spadì, where are you?_  
“Aurelià, che stai a fa?” He asks from behind his lovestruck grin. “C’hai fame? Voi magna’ quarcosa?” _What are you doing, Aurelià? You hungry? Should we grab a bite?_

___

**Cartagena, Colombia: A few months after the incident**  
  
Aureliano feels half-deaf, not sure if the preternatural silence around him is real or only perceived. It’s interrupted regularly by the drip of pregnant drops falling from the shower head, but despite that subtle _plop,_ there’s only the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.  
He hasn’t finished drying off yet, his powerful shoulders dewed over. One palm strokes his beard, gauging if it’s time to take it down a bit. His eyes flit up after that, two pieces of frosted glass fixing themselves into a critical squint.  
  
Aureliano surveys himself in the polished metal mirror. Somewhere beyond the steam he’s just wiped, he glimpses a foot hanging off the edge of the bed. A smile that has a genuine build lights up his face.  
Spadino.  
  
He must have fallen back asleep, his lifeless appendage testament. It’s pretty early, but they’d both gotten up to use the bathroom at the same time…and well… one thing led to another (and then to another) and that quickly sent them hurtling toward multiple orgasms.  
Albè, he sighs. Aureliano swivels in place, leans against the sink and just watches him. The blinds filter in the first true blaze of light rising from the vestiges of night and brighten his lover’s pale skin in an orange glow.  
So much more than his lover, he corrects himself. A fluttering in the stomach precedes the hyper-awareness of his mortality. Looking death in the face was the extreme shove from the universe he needed to realize what was truly worth fighting for.  
It took me long enough, he chuckles to himself, but at least I finally came to my fucking senses… and not a minute too soon.  
  
Tapping a loose fist against his thrumming heart, Aureliano exhales, in total awe of the man he’s sharing his life with. It’s like a literal weight has been lifted these past months. The incredulity washes over him; he can’t believe what transpired within him, around him… let alone the miracle of having survived. And he wouldn’t have, not without Spadino. Aureliano owes him his life, which is why it was so easy for him to gift it back _to him_.  
His mission: making Spadino understand just how much he loves him and desires him. Words have never been his strong suit. Aureliano is a man of action and it will be through gesture that he’ll repay this enormous debt.  
The pad of his index finger ghosts over each bullet hole as he stands in front of the glass once more, a peach-colored towel crookedly tied around his waist.  
They’re all but healed. More delicate and harder to remedy is the sting of why they were put there in the first place.  
But none of that matters anymore. They have a new life now, in a country warm and kissed by the sea, far from the stench of rotting Rome.  
_  
  
It was a slow build for them. Their first time “together” happened a few days after they settled in Cartagena. It seemed almost fitting they find a place overlooking the ocean, similar in position to the last place Aureliano had taken up residence. Each morning the sun bisected the horizon and each evening they watched from their small terrace as it set with a heart of fiery marigold.   
Spadino sometimes wondered if that’s how strongly their love blazed.  
  
Getting to this place, this point… it took a bit of maneuvering. When all that shit went down and Aureliano was bleeding out in his backseat, the first thing Alberto did was take him to this clandestine clinic his family had used in the past. When they still had soldiers to patch up.  
He’d acted on instinct. Compartmentalizing the nausea and the irrational thoughts was easy once he faced the very real, very bloody possibility of losing the love of his life forever.  
Crying, wailing, begging for help to the wrong gods wasn’t going to save them. So as Aureliano fought to live, _and love,_ again… Spadino called in that favor to Sangue Blu in Naples. He and his associate owed him one for mediating a shitshow that had happened between the gypsies of Secondigliano and one of the bosses.  
As a show of gratitude for helping keep the peace, Genny Savastano put them on a private plane to Colombia as soon as Aureliano could travel. He even set them up with a friend who took care of everything on the South American end. In the meantime, as Aureliano healed and gathered his strength, they hid in one of Genny’s properties in an undisclosed location. 

It was there, in their new home in Colombia, that the curtain lifted. It was there that Aureliano opened up to Spadino about what exactly had pushed him over the edge… the figurative and the literal. What had sent him blindly running to near certain death was the stark realization that he’d loved this man all along. He’d loved him and now he was going to lose him _to his own_. Waving a gun that would never have had enough bullets to save them both… he threw himself in harm’s way. It would have taken a miracle to come out of there alive… and yet they did.  
  
So that evening… Aureliano _really_ opened up to him, not just mumbling a velvet _I’m in love with you Albè_ and leaving it up to Spadino to fill in the blanks.  
No allusions, no misunderstandings: Aureliano looked him straight in those espresso eyes and with sweet confident possessiveness whispered his love for him. The molten sapphire gaze burned away any trace of tortured disbelief from Spadino’s murky stare.  
Every word that spilled from Aureliano’s delicious lips was like breathing air into Spadino’s lungs, underlined by a mingle of gratitude, adoration, and passion.  
Spadino kept himself in check and waited. He tipped his head back, exposing his long neck. His legs fell apart slightly, in a sign of invitation… but he didn’t advance.  
  
It was Aureliano who needed to do this, it was he who needed to take the first proper step towards this monumental thing that was about to transpire between them. Make the first gesture “his own.”  
They’d never get another “first time.” If Aureliano chose this, he would remember it for the rest of his life. Like pyrography for his heart, etching eternal love.   
  
Aureliano sighed. Found his courage deep within the fire in his belly. His left hand, slightly trembling, slithered up Spadino’s thigh, from his knee to the roundness of his outer muscle, and closed over it with a gentle clasp.  
His right moved to the top button of Spadino’s silk shirt, fingering it lightly.  
“Scusame si nun sarà… Cioè, io n’ho mai…” _I’m sorry if this’ll be… I mean, I’ve never…_   
Tearing his attention away from Aureliano’s lips, the heart-rending tenderness of Aureliano’s gaze, that fragility flickering far back behind it… Spadino couldn’t help but touch his cheek with searching gravity.  
“So’ stato ar posto tuo pure io. C’è sempre ‘na prima vorte pe’ tutto, Aurelià.” _I was once where you are. There’s always a first time for everything, Aurelià._  
  
Aureliano’s defenses were melting away. Intoxicated by the man before him, he parted his slick pink mouth.  
“Posso…?” _Can I?_ beseeched his movements. Spadino replied by taking his hand, reaching past the gap of buttons, timidly… Aureliano slipping two fingers in and pressing it to Spadino’s warm flesh. A hand closed over his, both of them firm over Spadino’s drumming heart.  
Spadino sibilated his own confession. “Batte pe’ te, ‘o senti? Era sempre e solo pe’ te, Aurelià _.” It beats for you, can you feel it? It always and only beat for you._  
Cupping his face lovingly, Aureliano came within a hair’s breadth of his lips. Half-laughing, trying to lighten the mood, Alberto muttered, “Nc’avè paura, amore mio, so’ stato ‘n gentiluomo prima de ‘no spacciatore.” _Don’t be afraid amore mio, I was a gentleman before I became a drug dealer._  
_  
The earth fell away for a moment, and with it went … that place of rapture, utterly consuming them both.  
It started gently. Politely.  
Aureliano settled his mouth on Spadino’s with featherlike lightness and curiosity. His tongue slipped in, warm and questing. Spadino carded his fingers into Aureliano’s hair, nape to crown, and encouraged him with lazy, sensuous movements to follow with a sweet exploration.  
It differed from kissing women, Aureliano thought, from behind the fog of his want. It was different, and yet it wasn’t. There was just more hardness, more angles. And perhaps a crueler, more urgent ravishment.  
Or maybe not. He wasn’t sure because his mind was whirling. Whatever the sex, no one had ever kissed him _like this_.  
Aureliano moaned lightly, pressing into him. He could feel Spadino’s rigid cock dig into his groin as they writhed on top of each other, a mess of limbs and shiver-provoking sensations.  
Jesus, everything about Aureliano made Spadino tremble in desire. The hunger seeped from every pore the more they deepened the kiss. Spadino whined lightly, the ache in his groin almost unbearable.  
He pulled away, licking over his lover’s bruised, gaping mouth, only to come back and brush his lips again, a mischievous grin painted on his face.  
“Aurelià,” he murmured as they touched foreheads. He inspected his gaze, scrutinizing it closely. “Sei sicuro de sta bene?” _Are you okay with this?_  
“Sì, Albè. Sto ‘na favola.” _Sì, Albè. I’m perfect._ The answer came before Spadino could even finish his phrase.   
Aureliano’s fists grabbed fabric and tugged madly, and when Spadino anchored himself on Aureliano’s belt, slipping a hand beyond the waistline, his lover nodded into him.  
“Sì…” _YES_  
The belt came undone, and with it the top button of Aureliano’s jeans. It was a tantalizing invitation for more, an obvious reply. But Spadino didn’t move to unzip. He just smiled wickedly as he stroked him over the denim.  
“Cristo… “ Aureliano whined, bucking into Spadino’s fist.   
Drunk on him, enveloped in Aureliano’s cologne, his musk clung to him. Aureliano cleaved to him with claw and fang. Nips along Spadino’s neck spurred the other to bare it in offering once again.  
  
Spadino’s lower lip disappeared between Aureliano’s teeth. For one crazy moment, Spadino felt like he was so close to catching a whiff of the fragrance of heaven itself. He ached to stand up with him, be engulfed by his muscular arms.  
Aureliano opened his shirt, the pads of his fingers finally sliding over his creamy prickled flesh. One finger seared a path down his abdomen, boldly closing over the protuberance. Both their groins tightened in a tangle of craving.

“ _’Namo a letto_?” Spadino begged, almost shy in asking. _Should we go to the bedroom_?  
“Si Albè,” Aureliano grunted. “ _Namo_.” _Yes, let’s go_.

Spadino offered him his hand, and Aureliano took it. Spadino cradled it with reverence, as if a baby bird sat in his palm, about to take its first flight.  
In a way, Aureliano was like that bird. There were things in his world that had yet to be discovered. Aureliano was on the verge of his own epiphany.  
They didn’t rush it. It was a slow walk over to the door. Spadino let it swing open. He half turned and waited.  
“Dopo de te,” _After you_ he gestured with his head.  
Aureliano motioned to cross the threshold, holding fast over his knuckles. “Entramo ‘nsieme.” _Let’s go in together._

_

Their first time was like a series of Polaroids falling swiftly to the ground. At least that’s how they remembered it. A series of unforgettable moments.   
Spadino’s touch was soft, like dribbling rain. He was courteous and tender until Aureliano begged him for a furious tempest. Then fingers moved along sweat-slippery flesh, kneading and scratching. Sexes sounded slick as they probed, slid, buried within delicious warmths.  
Aureliano came twice, both times in blinding ecstasy. The second with his head thrown back and drops of saliva coating his chin, Spadino’s spend beading on his stomach.  
Spadino dipped a finger in it, wetting it and spreading the moisture on Aureliano’s thirsty tongue. His lips puckered around it, sucking on his digit much like he’d done earlier on his lover’s cock.  
The briny kiss that followed, the matching rhythm of their movements, all hurled Aureliano into his last orgasm. Spadino’s taut body milked it from him, the air between them saturated in lust and unspoken promise.   
  
Later, Spadino’s head rested on Aureliano’s cooling breast. They embraced like lovers, legs scissored around one another and a familiarity that allowed for silence.  
Spadino reflected. He wished. As he ran his hand possessively down Aureliano’s ribs, he read the poetry carved into every contour of his body and the nearly healed bullet holes that almost took him from his warm embrace.  
Aureliano was pensive as well, taciturn. He traced a circle into Spadino’s bicep, kissing the top of his head sweetly. He hadn’t been this happy in a long time. A very long time. He sighed, praying the acceptance and understanding that Spadino had gifted him might never leave him.   
In the pitch darkness, the outside world with all its prejudices and politics didn’t matter. Rome and all the shit that happened there couldn’t have been a more distant memory. 

_  
_  
_**Cartagena, La Boquilla beach**  
  
He thinks about it all the way over to La Boquilla. How “naked” Spadino seems without all his necklaces and rings. If Alberto thinks he’s being sneaky, he’s wrong. Aureliano has noticed what gold Spadino had packed is slowly disappearing. He isn’t sure if he’s hiding it around the villa or delivering it one piece at a time to a safe deposit box at the Bancocolombia in town. It wouldn’t be safe to take it all at once; that would be the fucking day they’d get mugged. So perhaps that’s what he’s doing.  
Every time he broaches the subject, though, Spadino deflects.  
Perhaps he’s getting restless, Aureliano wagers a guess. Sitting around the house all day is a definite lifestyle change from what a typical one of theirs would look like back in Rome. Even if they do the odd job here and there for Genny.   
  
“Ma che ce stamo a fa qua, Albè? N’te piace prenne er sole.” _What are we doing here, Albe? You don’t like tanning.  
_Aureliano stands with his back to the sun, hands stuffed into his pockets. Blue eyes pierce the distance between them, the same color as the sky beyond which kisses the beach below. They’ve stopped in front of a locked up shack, the skyscrapers an odd urban backdrop to the tropical scene behind them.  
  
Aureliano’s gaze freezes on Spadino’s lean form, riveted on his handsome face and then moving over his body slowly.  
He licks his lips. A flush rises in the body he’s mapped all too well now, Spadino’s cheeks dusky pink under his attentions. If they weren’t in public, he’d claim him as his again. How fucking beautiful is he?!  
Cool brown eyes take Aureliano in, reading his naughty thoughts which are a mirror to his own. He can still taste him on his tongue from earlier.  
“Stai a pensà a quarcosa, Albè. Che è sto sorisetto?” _You’re up to something, Albè. What’s that coy smirk about_?   
There’s a curious intensity to Spadino’s expression. He swivels in place, one hand fiddling with something in his pocket. A couple of birds make a sound above them and Spadino shifts from left foot to right.  
“Niente.” _Nothing._ Spadino can barely contain himself, the words just waiting to escape forth. He’s like a giddy little boy! _  
_ “Nun te credo.” Something’s up. Aureliano can tell because he looks like the cat who ate the canary! “Che stai a combinà?!” _What are you doing?!_  
A head tilt and muscled arms crossed diagonally on his broad chest conflict impatience with the smile on his face. This man never fails to make him happy, even when he’s testing his resolve…  
  
There’s a toss of glittery metal into the air a second later and a soft chuckle follows it. Aureliano catches it into cupped palms more by instinct than sight.  
Keys.  
“E queste che so’?” _What's this?_  
“Chiavi, che so’?” _Keys, what they look like?_  
“Grazie…” he laughs at himself. “‘O vedo che so’ chiavi, ma pe’ aprì che?” _I get their keys. To open what, though?_  
  
Spadino raises both arms in the air and pirouettes in place, as he’s done a hundred times before.  
“Questo, amò. E’ tuo, Aurelià…” _This is all yours, Aurelià-_  
  
Realization makes his eyes widen and Aureliano’s already hitched breath catches in his throat.  
It’s a kiosk. On the beach. The reality sets in as he repeats the words in his head: Spadino bought me a kiosk on the beach…  
  
“Ma…” he trie _s_ to steady himself, get his bearings… feelings translated into phrases are glued to the roof of his mouth and a hot pulsing filling his chest.  
It’s familiar now, this thing: bliss.  
  
_“M’hai comprato ‘n chiosco?!”_ It comes out in hiccups… Aureliano is gasping, stuttering, mouth opening and closing as he carves a hand through his dark hair. _You bought me a kiosk?!  
_It’s still early and there aren’t many people on the beach. Moving forward slightly, he increases their personal space, wondering if they could get away with kissing here. Then he remembers the keys. _The key_ s open the fucking kiosk!  
  
Spadino rubs his hands together, lightheaded as much for Aureliano’s reaction as for the relief at not having to keep this secret any longer.  
“Era er tuo sogno, no? So che nun è quello de tu’ madre, ma-” _Wasn't this your dreams? I know it's not your mother's but-_  
Aureliano cuts him off, the emotion in him swelling, darkening his eyes. Grabbing Alberto by his hand and dragging him to the door, he’s jiggling the knob.  
The wood is old, you can tell… has weathered many summers…but he can fix it up. He’ll make this place perfect for them. Perfect. Just like Spadino is for him!  
  
He’s fumbling with the keys, desperate to pull Spadino inside and just KISS him already! Spadino’s heart is thundering and he can’t help himself giggling… and finally it happens. As soon as the rackety door closes behind them Aureliano seizes Spadino’s mouth in savage intensity, whispering “thank you” over and over again, each smother becoming more and more demanding.  
“‘Ndo l’hai presi ‘i sordi?” _How did you get the money for this?_  
He thinks he knows. But he wants to him hear say it… Christ he loves him so fucking much!  
  
Alberto glances up from under his dark lashes, immediately looking down sideways as if in embarrassment. A tremolo to his voice reveals the importance of this gesture.  
“Ho venduto l’oro mio. ‘Na casa in Abruzzo che era intestata a me tramite Genny. L’ho fatto pe’ te, Aurelià. Pe’ noi. Er futuro nostro qua-“  
_I sold my gold. And a house all mine in Abruzzo through Genny. I did it for you, Aurelià. For us. Our future here-  
_  
Aureliano is speechless, tears brimming in his pool eyes but this time, finally… from happiness.  
“Te amo, Albè” _I love you Alb-_ but the last of it disappears into Spadino’s chest. Their tongues dance together in a silent melody until Aureliano’s solid and strong arms don’t pull off enough to study his expression.  
  
“E er sogno tuo? Esse re de Roma? Rinunci a quello, rinunci all’oro tuo? A tutto?” _What about your dream? Being the King of Rome? Are you just going to give that up, your gold, too... Everything?!  
_  
“Er sogno mio, Aurelià, sei sempre stato te. Nun l’avevi capito? Avè l’amore tuo. Ce stavano du’ troni la’ sopra, uno pe’ me e uno pe’ te. Tu me ami. Sei vivo. Stai co’ me. Questo vale tutto l’oro der mondo, hai capito? N’ me ‘mporta nient’altro.” _My dream was always you, Aurelià- didn't you get it? To be loved by you. There were two thrones up there, one for me and one for you. You love me, you're alive... you're with me. This is worth all the gold in the world. Nothing else matters.  
_  
Aureliano’s lit gaze moves into his and he sees, or seeks, nothing else but Alberto. “Allora come ‘o chiamamo sto posto?” _What are we going to call this place?_  
_  
  
That same night, while Aureliano’s in the shower, Spadino finds a white box with a red ribbon sitting atop his dresser. He opens it with the delicacy reserved for picking flowers.  
When he unfolds the little crimson card attached, it’s hard to read for the watery glaze that blinds him with raw emotion.  
  


“E’ tutto ciò che me posso permette mò, amò. Non è una schiccheria come quelle che avevi tu, ma te prometto che te tratterò come il Re che sei, finché so vivo. Me hai dato i due doni più importanti che mai avrò: la vita mia, e l’amore tuo. E mo il chiosco. Non so bono co le parole ma spero che i gesti miei te facciano capì l’amore mio pe te. Te amo, Albè, co tutto me stesso. Magari non semo i Re de Roma, ma io tu sei il re der core mio e io der core tuo, e questo conta più de tutto.”

  
“It’s all I can afford right now, my love. I know it’s not a sciccheria like one of the ones you used to have, but I promise you I’ll treat you like the King you are until my dying day. You’ve given me two of the most important gifts I’ll ever have: My life and your love. And now the kiosk. I’m not good with words, but I hope my love for you will speak in gestures. I love you, Albè, with everything I am. Maybe we’re not the Kings of Rome, but we’re kings of each other’s hearts and that counts for so much more.”  
  
Beneath the tissue paper Spadino finds a candy necklace. Dainty. Tasteful. Pastel sweet trinkets hanging on a string which he promptly twirls around his long fingers… as soon as he catches his breath back, that is.  
Spadino steals a glance in the bathroom’s direction, swallowing back hot tears that have formed a lump in his throat. He brings the most precious jewel he’s ever been given, next to Aureliano of course, to his quivering upturned lips and whispers “Te amo pure io, Aurelià.”  
_I love you, too, Aurelìà._

  
  
_"Allora ciao amici ciao, So bye friends bye..._  
_Mi fanno parti per la bella Roma ti facciamo le valigie They tell me to leave for beautiful Rome, we'll help you pack_  
_Portati tutti gli ori, i money e le bigiotterie Take all your gold, your money, and your costume jewelry_  
_Perché giù a Roma te ne trovi fidati di me" Because in Rome you'll find plenty trust me_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading - for the purposes of the story I left the girls out this time. We're just to assume they think Aureliano is dead and that heartbroken, Spadino has left Rome.  
> Grazie per avermi letto. Please feel free to comment, I would love to hear from you!  
> Che dire, la fine non mi è andata giù. Capisco la fretta... mi spiace per gli autori della serie ma anche NO. I pianti disperati che mi sono fatto... 
> 
> Title and lyrics from Madame's song of the same name, "Sciccherie." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zxDFB6CS3g  
> There is a reference to another of my stories which is a crossover between Gomorra and Suburra for which a favor is asked of Spadino and now later he receives help from Genny Savastano and Enzo "Sangue Blu", it's not pulled out of thin air, just to explain. If you'd like to read it, please visit my dash or the "inspired by" link. ! :D  
> Thanks to Hel for the priceless help with romanesco. Love you!


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